


spying and lying

by bukkunkun



Series: Make It Worse [2]
Category: Spider-Man: Far From Home (2019)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Daddy Kink, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Explicit Sexual Content, Genuinely Terrible, Inappropriate Use of EDITH, Kinda, M/M, Masturbation, Mind Break, Mind Rape, Mind/Mood Altering Substances, Non-Consensual Voyeurism, Possessive Behavior, Puppy Play, Spider-Man: Far From Home (Movie) Spoilers, Twisted, Underage - Freeform, Undressing, Unhealthy Relationships, Voyeurism, oh yeah we're going off the deep end pals
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-15
Updated: 2019-07-15
Packaged: 2020-06-28 14:07:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19813876
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bukkunkun/pseuds/bukkunkun
Summary: Peter's on the train to Berlin, but that doesn't mean Beck doesn't know where he is, every step of the way.Tony Stark probably never intended for EDITH to be used like this, but who gave a fuck, now that the bastard was dead?The much-awaited sequelbut not reallytowine and crime.





	spying and lying

**Author's Note:**

> > AO3 tag “Inappropriate Use of EDITH”
>> 
>> — 🔮 bukkun, MSc 🕷 mr beck love mail 🔮 (@trickscd) [4 July 2019](https://twitter.com/trickscd/status/1146902365955428352?ref_src=twsrc%5Etfw)
> 
> i'm actually jon watts and i also wrote the film. have you all seen wine and crime and the date it was posted? jake gyllenhaal played mysterio Like That for me and only me. i can't believe i got so much of ffh right TWO FUCKING MONTHS BEFORE IT CAME OUT JESUS CHRIST
> 
> i'm so proud of myself. god fuckin bless my horny dick for completely seeing through mysterio like he's made of transparent plastic.

The first time had been an accident. He hadn’t meant to spy on him like that, really, he was just checking up on the drone projector, making sure he knew where Peter was going. 

That had been what he was doing at the start, nevermind the skeevy shit he’d already done prior to all this—fucking Peter while he was drunk off experimental mind control liquid vapour in Venice, fucking a _legitimately_ inebriated Peter in Prague and then showing him off to his crew before he had to put the boy back—he’d been, dare he say it, _bored,_ waiting for William to stop freaking out about the gun he’d pulled at his head and work on the illusion for Berlin again. 

He was just going to check up on Peter, he promised. It wasn’t because he missed the boy’s soft, supple skin, the adorable way his eyes welled up with tears as pleasure drove him insane, the way ‘ _nnh, daddy, please, more—_ ’ rolled off his lips while his hips rolled helplessly on top of his—

Okay, fuck, maybe Beck was a _little_ horny, and he already missed his cute little puppy cockwarmer. 

(Oh, cockwarming. That sounded fun to do, maybe after London, he could do something about that with Peter.)

Back to the point, though—Beck frowned at the hologram in front of him as he scrolled through EDITH’s satellite footage, and his eyebrows shot up to his hairline when he realised that Peter was inside the hotel now, with that MJ girl. By then, Peter wasn’t quite as in love with her as he said he was, not anymore, if that smidgen of green in his eyes said anything, and if not that, then the guilt, surely. 

The guilt that he’d let Beck in, he’d let Beck take _everything_ he could offer sweet, intelligent miss Michelle Jones. That made Peter unworthy. _Used._ A second-hand toy that wouldn’t amount to anything, least of all a present to such a wonderful girl. That alone would be enough to keep Peter away from her, mind-controlling juice not needed. 

“EDITH,” he said, and the AI lit up in the periphery of his vision in the glass helmet he wore.

“ _Yes, Quentin?_ ”

“Darling, pull up a level 5 security access on the spycams in the area. Get me a visual in that room.”

“ _Loading._ ” EDITH replied, and Beck couldn’t help the leer that crossed his face when he saw that a camera managed to capture footage through a little gap in the curtains, where he could see Peter and MJ talking about something or the other. Nothing he was _too_ interested in—but Peter’s look of fear was _delicious._ God, he _had_ to get this kid. 

He could see Peter gesturing wildly at MJ as they talked, and finally decided to start undressing.

Beck’s eyes widened, as Peter straight up pulled his shirt off in front of MJ, and the girl’s eyes widened, too. Beck was almost resentful of Peter’s healing factor—the marks he’d made on the kid earlier in the bar were beginning to fade, most of them were already gone, but MJ had seen enough to understand.

She said something that made Peter’s cheeks turn an absolutely _adorable_ red, and Beck jumped when he realised he’d started palming himself at the sight of it. His cock was stirring to life at the sight of Peter stammer out apologies, covering his face, and MJ slowly turned around, also red in the face.

Ah, she’d seen the hickeys and bites Beck left on Peter’s neck. Too bad she’ll miss the ones he left on the insides of Peter’s thighs, the finger-shaped bruises that were steadily disappearing from Peter’s perfect alabaster skin, hell, the beard burn marks that he left were already gone, giving nothing away that it was Mysterio who had been fucking cute little Spider-Man silly.

Peter looked around himself self-consciously, and began to undress completely. 

“Oh, that’s right.” Beck said out loud, surprised at how breathless he sounded as he spread his legs wide and sat back on his lavish armchair, palming himself slower as Peter unbuckled his belt, letting his pants slide down his perfect, perfect thighs. They were still dotted with Beck’s bites and the hand-shaped bruises, and Peter turned a lovely shade of darker red as he got to work on pulling his suit on. 

“EDITH,” He panted.

“ _Yes, Quentin?_ ”

“Record footage.”

“ _Recording._ ”

Peter pulled his pants up first, sliding taut Kevlar over his toned legs, and Beck thought back to the last time he peeled Kevlar off Peter’s perfect, perfect legs. He’d kissed his way down them after sucking Peter off while the teen finished off another shot of vodka, and when he’d reached the bottom to throw them aside, he ate Peter out until the teen was sobbing against the bar counter. 

(Oh, he didn’t care if his crew was _staring._ Let them watch—let them see what a greedy little cockslut he’d turned Spider-Man into.)

Peter secured his pants on his waist, and Beck could see the marks he left on Peter’s hips, remembering the way Peter whined and bucked against his unrelenting grip on him. 

_(“Daddy—daddy, please, nngh, I’m so—please, it’s so hot!”)_

“ _Fuck,_ Peter…” Beck breathed, reaching into his clothes to grip himself, watching Peter secure belts on his thighs before moving on to the top of the suit. “Baby, daddy misses you so much…”

He pulled his sleeves on, hiding those lovely arms and toned chest, pert pink nipples hiding behind deep black Kevlar, as if teasingly hiding away from Beck, demanding his attention, his hands on them to tear Peter’s fancy Kevlar suit open. 

Peter zipped himself up, pulling his mask back on, and Beck let out an exhale as he felt pleasure rip through him—hot, but not quite, never enough to push him over the edge. The teen continued to talk to his friends, but Beck ignored them, now, focused on stroking himself to completion as realisation struck him. 

“EDITH?” He said. “I want you to keep an eye on Peter at all times—assign new protocol.”

“ _Standing by for protocol input._ ”

“Puppy sitting.” Beck declared, grinning viciously as he got up from his seat to look out the window—the train was steadily approaching Berlin, they would get there in a few hours, so they had to get ready. “I want you to notify me when Peter is getting undressed. Record every instance when he is, am I understood?”

“ _Yes, Quentin. The puppy sitting protocol has been added to the database._ ”

“Excellent.” Beck grinned, and sat back down in his seat, waving a few projector drones over. “EDITH, run illusion 0874.”

“ _Running illusion 0874._ ”

The image of Peter, back in his Kevlar suit, on his knees a few feet in front of him materialised, and Beck smirked widely as he sat back, spreading his legs for the boy to turn and look at him. His eyes were glazed over, with that sheen of green he’d been oh so patiently working for, and he gently beckoned Peter over. 

“C’mere, baby boy. That’s it, puppy.” He was panting slightly, erection tenting his green underclothes obscenely, and he grunted in mild frustration as he freed himself from his clothes. Peter whined softly, and crawled over to Beck on all fours, settling down between his knees like he belonged there, nuzzling Beck’s leg lovingly. 

The illusion was almost perfect—almost, because Beck couldn’t feel Peter’s peach-soft cheek against his underclothes. Almost, because if Beck reached out for this sweet little Peter to tug his head closer, he would clench his fist around air. 

Illusions were nice, but nothing—absolutely _nothing—_ beat the real deal. 

“Oh, baby. Daddy misses you so much.”

“I missed you so much, Daddy.” Peter replied, a recording from back in Prague, muttered softly into Beck’s shoulder as Beck reached into Peter’s suit to stroke him to hardness. Right now, the illusion was pawing at himself desperately, whining softly, and Beck jerked his head in permission when Peter looked up at him with watery eyes. The boy lay back, spreading his legs obscenely as he folded them at the knee, fisting his hands at either side of his head. “Please, Daddy. Please fuck me.” Echoing the words from Venice. 

“Be a little patient, darling.” The man mumbled, wrapping his hand around his erection with a pleased groan, as Peter’s clothes melted away into dust from the teen’s body, the brunet watching them go with a noncommittal look on his face. “Give me a show. Think you can do that, puppy?”

“Yes, Daddy.” A spliced little sound clip from Venice, again. Peter spread his legs obscenely wide to show Beck his flushed pink cock, reaching down to gingerly prod at his dusky pink entrance, already shining with lube. Peter moaned softly, sliding in two fingers inside himself as Beck began to stroke himself, panting softly with a wide, predatory grin on his face as he watched Peter fuck himself on his fingers. Cute little gasps and moans escaped his lips, his hips rocking back against his intruding fingers—

“ _Hello, Quentin._ ” EDITH greeted, and the illusion died suddenly. Beck shot back in his seat, panting heavily as he snatched his hand away from his dick, frowning. 

“Hey, honey.” He managed through grit teeth. “What’s up?”

“ _The puppy sitting protocol has been activated._ ” EDITH replied, and Beck’s eyes widened. “ _Shall I start a live feed?_ ”

“Yeah, go for it.” Beck replied, grinning now as he got his hand back on his cock. The image of Peter between the compressor of the air conditioning of the Eurostar line came into view, and Beck’s grin widened when he saw Peter panting softly. He’d yanked his mask off to get some air, and Beck was _delighted_ to see that Peter had unzipped his suit, and was in the process of shucking it down all the way to his thighs. 

EDITH was working like a charm. 

He was sure that by all means, Stark never probably intended for EDITH to be used like this, never once thought to use her to spy on his cute little protégé like this, when he’s at his most vulnerable—most frightened. 

He was sure that Stark would be turning over in his grave right now, powerless to do anything about what tragedy was looming over sweet little Peter Parker’s head. 

“EDITH, zoom in.”

“ _Zooming._ ”

The feed of Peter on the train blew up to let Beck see the green sheen in Peter’s eyes, the confusion in them as he palmed himself desperately, bucking against his hand. Beck hissed in approval, leaning back in his seat as he stroked himself slowly, watching Peter rut against his hand helplessly. 

There was no sound—EDITH couldn’t go _that_ far— _yet._ Beck had to make sure to try and develop her more to let her tap into sound recording devices. Still, he supposed that didn’t matter right now—Peter was on top of a speeding train, he wouldn’t hear anything anyway. 

Still, the lack of sound didn’t mean that Beck wouldn’t be able to figure out what Peter was saying—those pretty pink lips parting in a breathless gasp around—

“ _Daddy,_ ” Peter mouthed, and Beck’s dick jumped in his fist as Peter’s eyes began to leak tears as he desperately fucked his fist. “ _Daddy—I—Mr. Beck!_ ”

“Yes, that’s it.” Beck breathed, stroking himself lightly, edging himself at the sight of Peter jerking himself off to the thought of him—even when he’d already been exposed as a fraud, as an evil man. 

Peter sobbed into his other hand, hiding his beautiful weeping eyes as his hips jerked into his fist, before his back stiffened up, going ramrod straight when he came, spilling white over his clenched fist. Peter let his eyes go to look down at himself, and began to cry anew, shivering and sobbing into his fist pressed against his mouth as no doubt shame and disgust filled his breaking heart, and Beck relished every moment of it. 

He saw the way green tinted Peter’s eyes, the helpless haze of desire still with a firm hold over him. 

“ _I—I shouldn’t be doing this,_ ” Peter was saying, looking down at himself in dismay, “ _Beck, he—he didn’t—he doesn’t even love me, I—I didn’t—_ ”

“Oh, but I do, baby boy.” Beck panted, stroking himself more firmly as Peter’s hands wandered lower, past his still-hard cock down to his dusky little entrance, fingers slick with his cum. “I love you so much, Peter. You gave _everything_ to me, you’re _mine._ ”

Peter winced when he stuffed a finger in himself, and he slid it in up to the second knuckle, shuddering as he fell back against the metal wall of the compressor. His jaw fell slack, eyes rolling to the back of his head as his cute little dick twitched in interest, and he gasped wetly, panting into the air as he waited for himself to adjust. 

“That’s right, my little puppy,” Beck panted, squeezing himself like as if it was his cock inside Peter, and not the boy’s finger. “C’mon, fuck yourself on your fingers for me.”

“ _O-oh, Mr. Beck,_ ” Peter moaned, squirming against his finger as he pushed another one inside him, his hips jerking into his hand as he desperately tried to stretch himself out for a cock that wasn’t there. “ _Aah, nn—daddy, want you so—so bad—nn—no!_ ”

Peter shook his head, yanking his fingers out of himself in mortification, and Beck’s grin only widened as the teen gaped at his fingers, shock crossing his features. 

“ _I—I’m not—no, this can’t be happening._ ” Peter buried his face in his hands, and sobbed. Beck laughed deliriously as his hand sped up on his cock anyway, relishing the way Peter cried on the roof of the train, until the teen pulled his hands away from his face, gingerly reaching down to his hole to play with it again. 

The haze of green was back. If Berlin wouldn’t be the final nail in the coffin for Peter’s sanity, then Beck would shoot the boy himself. 

Peter sniffled, still crying as he reached down to stuff three fingers in himself, and he cried out in pain, tears rolling down his cheeks. Oh, he was beautiful. So, so adorable and beautiful—Beck wanted so badly to have the boy back in his arms, to ruin him forever, put his battered body and broken mind on display to show the other Avengers—wherever the hell they are, whether or not they fucking _cared_ that _Tony fucking Stark’s protégé_ was in trouble—what happens to those who cross Quentin Beck. 

To those who thought they could take on Mysterio, the hero and saviour of the world from the deadly Elementals. 

For now, Beck was content with EDITH’s puppy sitting protocol, and he watched with no small amount of glee as Peter quickly escalated to fucking himself viciously on his fingers, his other hand wrapped around his cock to stroke himself into completion. 

The hazy look in Peter’s eyes were back—the same one he wore as Beck fucked his virginity out of him, the same one he wore as Beck ate him out in front of his crew—and the boy was enthusiastically jerking his hips back against his fingers, his back arching gracefully. 

Fuck, Peter was gorgeous. Beck had always liked them a little young, and Peter was absolutely _perfect._ Just the right age to be ripe for the picking, right on the cusp of manhood and adolescence—he was _delicious._ The fact that he was a superhero— _Spider-Man_ , of all the Avengers, was just the cherry on top. The thought of overpowering such a powerful being was intoxicating, and the fact that Tony Stark had loved him so dearly—

The world dropped Peter Parker into Quentin Beck’s lap, wrapped up all pretty like the best Christmas present he ever got. 

“ _Nngh, Mr. Beck, more—please—I need your cock so bad—_ ” Peter moaned, throwing his head back with a gasp as he came hard, his body jerking stiffly as his cum splattered onto his chest, the teen collapsing against the metal wall of the condenser with a sob.

Beck groaned, loud and reverberating throughout the empty room, and he came into his own fist, his own release spilling out over his hand as he laughed out loud, maniacal and cruel as he watched Peter melt into sobs, hiding his face behind his forearms as he lay there on the roof of the train, self-loathing no doubt taking him over, his body refusing to obey his heart and mind. Beck watched him cry for a while, laughing darkly as he cleaned himself up and tucked himself in, shaking his head fondly as he watched Peter reluctantly force himself to calm down, and got to work at attempting to clean himself up. 

When nothing he could do could really _help,_ he winced, and settled for zipping his suit closed, cum and all. Beck leered at the sight as Peter gingerly pulled his mask back on, and sat back. 

“EDITH, you can cut the feed and recording.” he said, and the image disappeared from view. Beck laughed disbelievingly as he took EDITH off, looking down at the sunglasses with a fond smirk. “Tony Stark, you absolute bastard. Gotta hand it to you, only _you_ could fuck up so badly that the tech _you_ stole from me was the same one that’s gonna break the shit out of your greatest accomplishment yet.”

There was a knock on the door, and Beck lit up slightly as he put EDITH back on. He turned his head to see Janice peeking into the room with an awkward little smile at him, and she gave him a meek little wave from the door. 

“May I come in, Quentin?” She asked, and Beck couldn’t help but smirk slightly at her. 

Ever since he fucked Peter right out in the open in front of them, his team had been a little apprehensive of him, almost _fearful,_ really, and he wouldn’t have it any other way. 

Still, he gave her a sweet smile, the same one that charmed her into following him and his every order blindly, like the rest of their team did, and she seemed placated, stepping into his room with a little box in her hands. 

“I’ve finished your request.” She said, and Beck’s eyes widened slightly as she handed the box to him delicately, as if terrified that any sudden movement would make the man explode. He took pity on her, and took the box gently from her hands, opening it with wide-eyed reverence to see a lovely green leather collar inside. Gently he took it out, thumbing at the fine leather material on the outside, and then the soft faux fur on the inside. He gave her a sweet smile, and he could hear Janice’s breath hitch in her throat. 

“It’s beautiful. Thanks, Janice.” He said softly, and put the collar back into the box. “What about the charm?” 

“Oh, here!” She held up a little velvet pouch, and Beck held his hand out for her to drop it into his palm. He opened the pouch and let a little silver heart-shaped charm tumble out onto his palm, and he smiled warmly at the sight of the little ‘ _PETER_ ’ engraved on it. 

“It’s perfect. Thanks.” He smiled up at her, and Janice laughed a little nervously, before she peered around. Beck cocked his head at her, and she sighed. 

“Quentin, I just—” She said haltingly, and Beck put his hand on his hip, raising an eyebrow at her. “Isn’t this a little… excessive?” She asked, and he blinked at her for a moment, before she gestured meekly at the box and the charm in Beck’s hands. “This poor kid, you’re kind of… isn’t this a bit much?”

Beck looked at her for a long, silent moment. 

“Quentin?” She ventured again, and the man chuckled, shaking his head as he rested his chin on his fist to inspect her. 

“You're okay with us destroying London, _potentially killing hundreds of people,_ but draw the line at me sparing little Peter?” He asked, and Janice paled. “ _C'mon,_ Janice.”

“I just—” the woman stammered, “I mean—” She pursed her lips, took a deep breath, and tried again. “The collar, the faux fur. I think velvet should be fine.”

Beck gave her a slow smile, nodding in satisfaction, and sighed, shrugging noncommittally as he gestured at the box that had the collar in it. “Well, I’d like him to be really comfortable, but I guess you have a point, maybe it’ll tickle him. Do you think you could come up with the velvet version?”

“Y-yeah, I think I can.” Janice replied. “I’ll try to have it ready by Berlin.”

“Thanks, Janice.” Beck smiled sweetly at her, and she hurried out of the room. The man chuckled, shaking his head fondly as he turned to look out the window, watching trees rush past him, and smirked darkly. 

When they reach Berlin, he’ll break him. Peter will be his, and everything will be _perfect._

**Author's Note:**

> > fellow writers, does it piss you off when people just comment stuff asking for a next chapter/fic without saying anything else constructive about the fic? genuinely curious.
>> 
>> — 🔮 bukkun, MSc 🕷 mr beck love mail 🔮 (@trickscd) [11 July 2019](https://twitter.com/trickscd/status/1149322058376962049?ref_src=twsrc%5Etfw)
> 
> [beck voice] never ask me for anything ever again.


End file.
